The Fourth Life
by Viskey HeroMouse
Summary: When the Hellhounds get Dean, it's already the third time he dies. Each time Castiel has been there to bring him back to life. But bringing him back a fourth time is a bit more complicated than usual.
1. Chapter 1

The Fourth Life

A/N: I've tried to get a picture on how angel hierarchy really works, but I got contradicting theories, even within themselves (like the archangels are only second to last on the ladder, yet even the highest ranking group of angels is ruled by an archangel.... Yeah, talk about being sensible.)

Sticking my nose into a bible didn't help either.

Apparently angels' main job (next to worshipping God) is to tell random old, childless women that they're pregnant after all, and would they please rejoice? Because their son – nah, no daughters, folks, watcha thinking? – will be big and important and will multiply until nobody can count the offspring anymore, hallelujah.

So, being educationally confused, I decided to rank them to my own liking.

**Three Times (or maybe a couple hundred) Dean Died and Four Times He Didn't**

... and what Castiel had to do with it

**25 May 1978 – † demonic spell**

Mary Winchester stood in the living room of her new home, ironing her husband's shirts. Cas felt her calm, her silent joy. Apparently she liked this work. Or maybe it was being married that made her happy. Or maybe the knowledge about the new life growing inside of her.

At 3:15:59 pm the little body was prospering, its cells multiplying and specialising, the tiny heart beating a fast, steady rhythm.

At 3:16:00 pm the heart stopped.

At 3:16:01 Castiel reached into Mary Winchester's womb, gave the heart a push, and it picked up its rhythm again. A bit irregular at first, and faster than usual as if to make up for the second it had missed.

It was not hard to determine the culprit: a demon, and a powerful one too. It required a lot of skill and practice to stop an unborn heart without giving the mother so much as a fleeting feeling of discomfort. And as it was, Mary Winchester kept ironing happily throughout the entire incident.

Castiel realized only that afternoon how very important this particular human actually was, and how hard it would be to keep this descendant of Cain alive. Dark creatures would keep coming after him.

But at least for the duration of the pregnancy there was a surefire way of keeping this child safe. Castiel burned protective symbols on the inside of Mary's womb.

This life, hardly begun, had to be protected.

**14 April 2008 #1 – persistence**

Castiel didn't like being persistent with his brothers, because he felt it upset them. But sometimes there was no other way than to disturb Heaven's tranquillity, and now was such a time. He had been given an assignment, and he planned on fulfilling it. If that meant making himself unpopular, so be it.

Unlike most angels, he had heard of the Campbell-Winchester Line and its importance long before either Mary or John had even been born. It was not because he was a Watcher or even officially associated with them. He simply found it relaxing to talk to Haniel on occasion, who was a Watcher. It seemed just natural that they should talk about the bloodlines Haniel was following at the time.

That's how Castiel had learned of the Winchesters. And it was, he pondered, probably this prior knowledge that had earned him the assignment. He was to watch over the older Winchester Son, like a common Guardian, really. But apparently the importance of this human called for a more experienced angel.

He had received his orders almost exactly thirty years prior to today, and they were quite clear:

Make sure he lives.

Don't mess with his life.

Intervene only if inaction would result in his certain death.

Hard to misinterpret.

Which was why Castiel would disturb Heaven's tranquillity. Dean Winchester was going to die if Castiel didn't take action. And he would not just die. If this were just another simple case of dying, Castiel wouldn't bother much. He'd step in and right the wrong, wasn't like he hadn't done it before. Dean Winchester had a rather unique talent for dying.

But this time he wouldn't just die. He would lose his soul to Lucifer.

And Castiel wasn't going to let that happen if he could help it.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the delay, but I came across this vicious creature. Research revealed I was dealing with a bout of Real Life. The creature itself is unkillable, they say. But at least I defeated it for the time being. So here's - finally - the second chapter.

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**2 November 1983 – Azazel **

Dean Winchester was about to wake up, when Azazel entered the house. His senses – still untrained but already those of a hunter – picking up on the foreign presence in his home.

Castiel knew where this was headed, it had happened before in other families all over the country. Therefore he encouraged Dean to wake up so he would be ready and alert when he needed to be. But at the same time he instilled a fear into Dean's heart that kept him in his room long enough to escape Azazel's wrath and the sight of his own mother burning pinned to the ceiling. – Castiel was by no means an expert on humans and their needs and functions, but he was rather sure that seeing their parent come to a violent death was not good for their further development.

Castiel released the child only when Azazel was gone and John between his dying wife and his older son.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Now, Dean, go!" John shouted and pressed the baby into Dean's arms.

Dean held on tight and ran. Down the stairs, across the hall. And Castiel was right ahead of him, clearing the path, making sure he got out of the house save and healthy.

**14 April 2008 #2 – predicament**

"Please, brother, I really need to see Zachariah."

"He is very busy," Juniel answered pointedly. He didn't seem to care that he was far below Castiel on the hierarchy. Obviously he felt protected by Zachariah's prominent position.

"I know, he's following Cain's descendants, but that is just what I need to see him about."

"Brother, there is nothing you could bring to Zachariah's attention that he isn't already aware of."

"Nevertheless, I would like to speak to him about the recent events."

"Really, if there is anything he needs from you, he will come to you."

Castiel looked worriedly past the unyielding Juniel, but didn't overrule him, though he considered it for a moment. But overruling Juniel wouldn't get him closer to his goal. Zachariah could still just send him away if he didn't want to see him, which was very likely if Castiel all but ambushed him. And that would be the end of it.

Dean Winchester was doomed if Castiel failed to see Zachariah about this and get him on his good side. He would have to find a way to make it happen.

But instead of bringing his concerns to attention, Castiel turned his eyes to earth, where Dean Winchester sat in a bar, a glass of amber liquid in front of him, a young woman next to him, her hand on his thigh, his hand low on her waist.

With a sigh Castiel turned away again. He saw more and more of this behaviour from his charge lately. He couldn't understand why he did it, couldn't find any reason in it.

But whether he liked what his charge did, or whether he understood it, it didn't matter in the end. Because Castiel's orders were quite clear: protect Dean Winchester life. And that was what he was going to do. Unless somebody told him differently. And even then he would abandon his assignment only with regret. He enjoyed his assignment. It was not hard work for the most part, and it was interesting. Castiel learned a great number of things about humans as he kept watch.


	3. Chapter 3

**7 June 1987 – Heaven's**

Castiel felt the impact as if the car had actually hit him, not his charge.

He was immediately next to Dean, ready to take matters into his hands should it become necessary. For the moment Dean was holding up, but he was grievously injured, and Castiel was sure that it wouldn't be long before ha had to intervene.

An elderly man came rushing towards the blood-covered young Dean lying in the middle of the street. "Son? You okay?" The man dropped to his knees next to Dean. "You hear me?"

"Sammy okay?" Dean whispered, blood bubbling on his lips.

Castiel looked up and saw a crying Sam Winchester sitting up at the side of the road. Scrapes on his knees and hands and dirt all over him. "Dean?" he sobbed.

"You'll be fine," the man said, putting a hand on Dean's forehead. "Somebody call an ambulance! – You'll be fine."

"Sammy?" Dean asked again, turning his head to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but when he caught sight of his younger brother, he smiled.

"Hang in there, son," the man said. "The ambulance is on its way. That'll be an adventure, huh? Riding in the back of an ambulance with all the lights flashing and the siren going?"

Castiel was so close to Dean now, he was almost inside of him, feeling what Dean felt. There was no pain, no fear, and he didn't listen to the man next to him, didn't even see him. His entire attention was focused on his brother who came limping over. "Dean?" Sammy cried. Dean heard that, and what bothered him the most were not his own injuries. He was bothered that he had managed to upset Sammy, frighten him, when all he had wanted to do was push him out of the way, so the car wouldn't run him over.

But at least he had done it. He had taken care of Sammy. His one real duty in life. Dad told him often enough: Take care of Sammy.

And Dean had.

An unfamiliar weight pressed down on Castiel suddenly. He ruffled his wings to shed the feeling. He couldn't be distracted like that.

He concentrated on Dean's body, assessed its condition. He knew he shouldn't, but he slipped his hand into Dean's skull and pushed at one of the bone splinters. It had dislodged when Dean had turned his head and now threatened to pierce his brain. Castiel pushed it back into place and melded it to another, bigger splinter so it wouldn't come loose again and leave Dean brain-damaged. But he didn't dare do more than that with the skull. Correcting this little bit was already closer to breaking the rules than he was comfortable with. After all, Heaven wanted Dean alive. Smart had never been part of the deal. But Castiel liked the boy, liked the way he thought. He couldn't risk the boy losing his abilities when it could be taken care of so easily. Maybe it wasn't right correcting the danger to Dean's brain, but it felt good.

"I think this one is mine," said a Reaper, kneeling down beside Castiel.

"This one is Heaven's," Castiel contradicted stoically. "You can't have him."

"But his life is already seeping out of him. Don't you feel it? Don't you see it?"

Castiel did, but he could lie if he had to. Not to another angel, obviously, but he could lie to a reaper easily enough. "I don't. There is no work for you here." He put his hand on the rip in Dean's liver, keeping most of the blood inside the organ. "There is only work for me." He put his other hand over the hole that one of the broken ribs had punched into Dean's lung.

This life had to be protected.

**14 April 2008 #3 – advertising powers**

Castiel spent the night thinking. He kept throwing glances down at Dean, for once not drinking and making out but driving, his brother Sam asleep in the passenger's seat.

Castiel could hear Dean's thoughts. They didn't make much sense to him, since they were mostly half-sentences and single words, interwoven with flashing images. They were like short-hand, like one word standing for a complete line of thought, lines only Dean himself was privy to.

But when Dean looked over to his brother he calmed down a bit. "Least I got you back," he muttered, not audible under the rumbling motor of the car, but Castiel heard the thought, not the voice. "I don't wanna go to Hell, Sammy, but at least I got you back." He swallowed, then concentrated back on the road ahead, with the short-hand thoughts taking over his mind again.

Castiel withdrew.

He didn't like throwing his own rank into the game, but he saw no other way anymore. He was an old angel, which meant that he outranked most other angels. He didn't like advertising his power, but sometimes it did come in handy. What good was a high position if you didn't make use of it?


	4. Chapter 4

**11 January 1992 – thin ice**

Castiel's attention increased a thousand fold when he felt the ghost slip into Dean, walking him out of the log cabin where John had set up camp with his boys. There had been rumours about an angry ghost, but John, in his usual arrogance had gone there anyway, even taking his sons with him, thinking that after almost a decade of hunting he was now so good at it, that he could deal with the ghost just fine.

And now this ghost was walking Dean downhill to the fishing pond. The pond was neither big nor deep, but a child could still drown in it. And that was without doubt the ghost's intention.

Castiel hoped the ice would hold, as he anxiously walked beside Dean.

Then Dean stepped on the frozen-over pond. He was by no means big for his age, but the ice was thin. It cracked.

The ghost kept walking the body forward.

There was only one thing Castiel could do. He dove into the pond, held the surface up, supported every one of Dean's steps, until John came running down the hill.

John ran out onto the ice, not thinking what his added body weight would do, but humans were dumb that way, Castiel had found out. So there was nothing else left for him to do but to support John's weight as well.

John picked up Dean, carried him off the ice and back up to the cabin.

Castiel could have expelled the ghost with a flick of his hand, but his orders were clear: Intervene only as a last resort. Castiel had intervened by holding the ice. The rest was up to John.

Nevertheless, when John was done ridding his son of the ghost, Castiel bent his orders, once again. He might not be allowed to intervene, but taking preventive measures was not exactly intervening, was it? So Castiel imprinted a repellent spell on the inside of Dean's throat. No spirit, ghost or demon would ever again be able to slip into this body and use it.

**15 April 2008 – bars and beds**

"Castiel," Juniel greeted amiably.

"Juniel. I was wondering if maybe today I could see Zachariah."

Juniel looked regretful, but Castiel could see through the act. Juniel really couldn't care less.

"Have you even told him that I asked to speak with him?"

"I haven't had the opportunity yet," Juniel admitted, but still indifferent.

"Then I suggest you go and tell him now." Castiel ruffled his wings as a warning.

Finally Juniel looked affected. He regarded Castiel uneasily. "Is that an order, brother?"

Castiel expanded his form to its fullest. "See it as an order or not," he said, "as long as you do as I ask."

Suddenly Juniel was quick to hurry to speak to his superior. When he came back, he looked apologetic. "Zachariah is not willing to see you."

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement. To say that he was disappointed didn't do justice to what he felt. Another attempt had failed. But what could he do? He could order Juniel, but not Zachariah. If his older brother refused to see him, then there was nothing Castiel could do.

He could, of course, just walk up to Zachariah and talk to him, but he knew him. That would only make him angry. And when Zachariah was angry, there was no chance of getting anything from him.

Unsuccessful again, Castiel turned worriedly towards his charge. Another bar, another girl, more amber liquid.

There was only one month left for Dean Winchester, and Castiel started to really worry.

It unsettled him that even after all this time neither Sam Winchester nor Bobby Singer nor the demon Ruby had found a way to save Dean from his contract. – And that's not even counting Dean's steadfast refusal to just break the deal, and Castiel's overall scepticism regarding Ruby's motives and general attitude.

The truly frustrating thing was: Castiel did have the ability to save Dean. He had the ability to keep the Hellhounds at bay, had the ability to annihilate any demon trying to pull his charge's soul from his body. But actually doing it was above his authority. He needed Heaven's permission for that kind of intervention. He needed Michael's consent. But to get to Michael, he had to get to Zachariah first. And that uncaring, idiotic bastard just wouldn't see him.

So Castiel's hands were bound. He had to stand by and watch. After all he had done, after bending the rules for Dean, after almost breaking them, he now had to stand by and watch.

He turned away from Dean, leaving him to another useless night with a meaningless human. Why Dean didn't make the best of his remaining time, why he didn't fill it with meaning, if not with searching for a solution to his predicament, why he wasted his last days in bars and beds was beyond Castiel.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for yet another loooooooong delay, and **MANY, MANY THANKS** for the comments and story alerts, people. Be sure that they are most welcome! So, I'm having a little breather in my hunting the RL-Monster, and so here's part 5. Oh, and I realised the Title isn't quite accurate. It should be the fifth life. But what the hey, I won't change the title while I haven't even finished posting the story. So. Hope you enjoy this part as much as you did the previous parts. And keep your fingers crossed that I will get rid of that dang RL soon._

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**17 January 2006 – † divine and preposterous**

Castiel was furious with himself for being so careless. How could he trust a mere human to keep doing things right? Sure, Dean had done surprisingly well during the last years. There had been no near fatal experience for him in the last fourteen years. He had learned his father's lessons. And now... this.

Something so stupid!

An electroshock that stopped his heart. Castiel had started it again, before Dean's body even had a chance to realize it had actually stopped. But the heart was damaged, the muscle weak, just barely strong enough to keep pumping.

Castiel was tempted, more than once, to throw caution to the wind and just heal it. But he kept reminding himself that he was allowed to do that anyway once the heart gave in, so it was really only a question of time, because true to his reckless self Dean did not go easy on his battered body.

What Castiel could do, though, was pushing Sam's research into the right directions. So Sam found Roy le Grange, the Faith Healer that really wasn't one, and thanks to Castiel's persuasive skills forgot about his innate scepticism. He just packed up Dean and drove across the country to get him to the Faith Healer.

"It is the Lord, who does the healing here, friends," Roy preached, and Castiel shuddered with dismay. Another human thinking he had a clue to God when in reality he had not even a clue what was going on in his own house with his own wife. Humans, preposterous as always.

"The Lord, who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."

Castiel huffed. "Try the next best thing ... this time," he whispered, and then he gave the Reverend le Grange a moment of real connection with the divine. He tipped a finger to the back of Roy's head, steering his attention to Dean, who sat in the second row, muttering something about people's wallets.

"Think so young man?" Roy asked, and Castiel withdrew his finger. His job was done. Roy had singled out Dean, he would call him up on stage, he would heal him ... or let the captured Reaper trade Dean's life for another.

For a moment Castiel considered doing the healing himself, instead of the Reaper. But what would that gain? Sure, Marshall Hall's life would be spared, but only until Roy healed the next person. And then it would be another, and another.

There would be no end, unless Dean and his brother put an end to it. So Castiel stepped back, let the Reaper do the exchanging, and when Dean opened his eyes, Castiel gave him a glimpse at the Reaper. He knew his charge. He would investigate. He would find out about the Healer's wife and her spell. He would stop her.

And order would be restored in this little part of the universe. The humans destined to die would die, the Reaper would be free to harvest them, and Dean Winchester would live.

**16 April 2008 – free will**

Castiel was determined to keep coming until he was allowed to see Zachariah so he could get to Michael so he could get permission so he could save Dean Winchester from going to Hell. He couldn't explain even to himself why saving Dean Winchester meant so much to him. He hoped that nobody was going to ask, because he had no answer.

He didn't hold much hope actually getting permission, because saving Dean from demonic attacks and unlucky chances was one thing. That was corrective. But saving him from going to Hell, that would be manipulative. Because that one Dean had brought on himself. Making this deal had been his own free will. Castiel had helplessly stood beside Dean, watching him, hearing every word. He had screamed at Dean not to be so stupid. He had pleaded, had prayed. But in the face of free will angels were powerless.

Saving Dean now would only be possible because Dean didn't want to go to Hell anymore. – Not that he had ever actually wanted to, nobody really wants to go to Hell, after all. But when Sam had been dead, Dean hadn't cared about anything. He hadn't spend a moment's thought on his own fate. There had been only one thing on his mind: Bring back Sam. Never mind the consequences. It had been Dean's own free will to go to hell in order to save Sam.

Free will really was a pain in the ass. Castiel allowed himself a short, small smile, as he caught himself using one of Dean's phrases. But honestly, Castiel couldn't think of any expression that would describe it better.

But now that Sam was back, and Dean's rationality had had time to catch up with his rash emotional decision, Dean wanted to live.

Castiel wished he could do something about it, but the decision, made eleven months ago, was still valid. To intervene with the consequences of free will was only possible if he got that permission.

"Brother." Juniel greeted.

Castiel let his energy flare up for a bit, just to remind Juniel who he was dealing with, then said in his most level tone: "Please, tell Zachariah that I urgently need to speak with him. About my assignment. Things are going wrong in a way that I can't correct on my own authority. I need Heaven's advice."

Juniel seemed uneasy with Castiel, but didn't do as he was told.

Castiel spread his wings. "Tell him I need his advice on the matter at hand. I am unsure of how to proceed. Tell him verbatim."

Juniel understood that he was ordered this time, so he left, but without saying a word.

Castiel followed him with his eyes. He really should have played at Zachariah's vanity sooner. How stupid of him to neglect it until now. His older brother was much prouder of his position than he should be. After all there lay no achievement in being created before others, which was the only reason why Zachariah held the position of Main Watcher of the Bloodlines.

True enough Juniel returned with Zachariah walking right behind him.

"You wanted to see me, brother?" Zachariah was amiable and obliging.

"Yes. It is about Dean Winchester."

"Uh, yes. Your charge. How's he doing?"

"Badly. He has bargained with a demon."

Zachariah's eyes widened just enough to tell Castiel that he hadn't known about that. One great Main Watcher he was. Damn him.

"So you want to... What do you want?" Zachariah asked confused. "The course of action in this kind of situation is quite clear, unfortunate as it is to lose such a promising descendant. But humans who bargain with demons go to Hell. It has been like that since the first human did it, and it will be like that until the last one does it."

"But I have to..."

"I know what your duties are," Zachariah interrupted. "I'm the one who assigned you, remember?"

Of course Castiel did.

"But there are things that cannot be forgiven," Zachariah went on patronisingly, "like bargaining with our fallen brother and his abhorrent spawns."

"All I'm asking for..."

"You're asking for something that's just not possible," Zachariah interrupted again.

"Please, brother, let me see Michael." Castiel held his ground.

"He won't give you any other answer."

"Probably. But I must explore all my possibilities. For my own peace of mind." Yes, just let Zachariah think that he was doing him a personal favour.

Indeed Zachariah huffed but at the same time nodded. "Fine, for your own peace of mind, brother, I'll tell Michael. But don't expect too much."


	6. Chapter 6

**6 May 2006 – John's solution**

Not even four months!

Castiel didn't want to believe it, but Dean had managed to almost die not even four months after he had accidentally electrocuted himself.

To be fair, it wasn't his fault this time, Sam had been the one driving, and the truck-driver had been possessed. Still.

Maybe Zachariah had known how much work this man would cause, and had therefore not entrusted him to a regular Guardian. Maybe it had nothing to do with the importance of the charge, but all with his talent for getting into dire situations.

Castiel was ready to jump in any time, to give Dean's heart that much needed push once again. But for once he didn't have to, because John took matters into his hands. Castiel couldn't say that he was happy with John's solution, losing a soul to Lucifer was always pitiful, but it would work.

Castiel only stayed nearby for the unlikely event that John should fail. Which he didn't.

"That's quite an angel you got there sitting on your shoulder," the doctor told Dean upon finding him unexplainably good as new.

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed. He really wanted a word with the one who had come up with that one. "We do not sit on anyone's shoulder," he sneered. "And nobody would want us to, we're much too big for that!"

**27 April 2008 – going to die**

Castiel was reeling, and he did not like that. Not. At. All.

He had always prided himself to be in control and calm. To find his calmness so seriously disturbed and his control so profoundly taken away, it was worrisome. So Castiel reeled _and_ worried. He didn't know how to deal with that, and he just wished that Michael would finally come see him. Michael had sent a message that he would see him in due time. Yes!

But what did Michael think _was_ due time? Dean had less than three weeks left by now, and he and his friends and accomplices were still no closer to finding a solution to the problem than they had been when they'd started out.

It more and more looked as if Dean Winchester was indeed going to go to Hell.

Castiel spent his time waiting and watching Dean. With a carelessness Castiel would never have imagined in himself – if imagining were something he did – he reached out to steady the Impala's steering wheel as Dean nodded off for a second.

Why he even bothered anymore, he didn't know. If Dean died and went to Hell now or in eighteen days, what did it matter? Because apparently the only ones still interested in Dean's fate were all unable to change it.

It was all going bad.

Dean Winchester was going to die.

And he was going to go to Hell.

And Castiel could do nothing about it.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi, everyone. Sorry for another looooong delay. But that Real-Life-Thingie kept me busy again, and then I found that the scene as it was, wasn't working, so I ditched it and wrote it anew.

_I hope it was worth the effort and you'll enjoy what I came up with. Thanks for your patience._

**14 February 2008 – † † [...] † † Heat of the Moment**

Castiel was concerned.

Actually, he was worried.

Very worried.

Because something really bad was going on, and he didn't know what. But something was definitely going on, because Dean was dying, and Castiel could do nothing about it.

He had followed the Winchesters to a weird place that had furniture nailed to the ceiling. Humans and their idiosyncrasies just never ceased to amaze him. But already when the owner of the place had shown up, shot-gun at the ready, Castiel had known that the situation would end badly. With Dean on the receiving end of a fire-arm it usually did.

True enough the shot-gun went off, searing pain in Castiel's chest as the bullet tore into Dean's. Ignoring the pain, Castiel was at Dean's side long before Sam even could think of reacting. He pressed his hand down on the gushing wound, pressed down the other hand as well, when one didn't help, but the blood-flow didn't even slow down. 'No, no, no...' He thought. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening.

"No, no, no, not like this," Sam collected Dean into his arms.

'Come on, Dean, heal!' Castiel thought desperately. But not even repeating the plea in a whisper that sent a tremor through the room helped. Dean's body held out a little while longer, but his pulse became erratic and eventually stopped altogether. 'No,' Castiel thought dejectedly. 'No, not like this ... not yet ... not at all ... no...'

It couldn't be and yet it was. Dean was dead.

Slowly lifting his hands from Dean's body, Castiel turned to Heaven, intent on getting a couple of answers in exchange for a piece of his mind, but then he stumbled over something: Dean's soul, it was still inside his body. If he was really dead, it should leave the body and go to either Heaven or Hell, or even stay earth-bound.

Something was...

"_... heat of the moment ..."_

Castiel jumped and looked around himself in alarm. What was this? How did he get here into this...

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

What...?

Time passed, and it was Sam who realized the truth: This was the same day they had lived through yesterday – which turned out to be today. Somehow. But he didn't tell Dean. He only tried to steer the day into a different direction.

Well, it did end differently. A lot sooner, too. Dean got run over by a car, dying instantly. Castiel had time to – unsuccessfully – try to revive him, before ...

"_... heat of the moment ..."_

And it was the same day again.

Sam and Castiel did their best to save Dean, but fate found a new way to kill him every new today. Slipping in the shower, choking on a bite of sausage, eating a spoiled tacco ... It seemed the number of ways to kill a person was endless.

At first Castiel tried to break the circle from within. If he could just keep Dean alive until it turned Wednesday, everything might be fine and back to normal. Only, he never made it. And it dawned on him, that there had to be somebody personally involved in this. Somebody, whose power was a match to his own.

Which meant it was an angel. But why would an angel ... and which angel?

The answer to that question was simple: Gabriel. He was the only angel who was unaccounted for. He had turned his back on Heaven without actually rebelling. One day he had simply left Heaven and had disappeared. The reaction to that had been minimal. Nowadays most angels had nothing much to do anyway, so Gabriel's absence didn't disrupt anything, he might as well be gone.

But now it all appeared in a different light.

Once he put his mind to it, it was no difficulty to find Gabriel. He was wearing a small, slender man, nothing about his appearance giving away the power hidden inside.

"Gabriel," Castiel spoke to the man, a threat carrying in his voice.

Gabriel looked surprised for a moment, but not at all intimidated. "Yeah. So. You found me. Swell. Now if you don't mind, I'm kind of in the middle of something here." He flailed his hand dismissively and turned away.

Castiel let his hand heavily drop onto Gabriel's shoulder and turned him back around. "I know, and I'm asking you to stop it."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, then laughed for a moment. "Listen, buddy. I don't really care what you're asking, because I have personal unresolved business with the Winchesters. Do you know what they those bugs tried to do? They tried to kill me!"

"You are an angel. They couldn't have killed you."

"Duh." Gabriel shook his head. "But that's not the point. The point is, they wanted me dead! So I'm giving them a bit of their own medicine."

"It is against Heaven's wishes," Castiel clarified. "I have the duty to protect Dean Winchester. He is to be kept alive at all cost."

"Heaven's wishes?" Gabriel seemed insecure for a moment, but then he returned to his former arrogant attitude. "And that's supposed to bother me why?"

"Because I am giving you the explicit order to leave Dean Winchester alone."

"I am an archangel," Gabriel boasted. "Who are you to think you can order me around?"

"I am Castiel, your elder."

That finally shut Gabriel up. If he didn't follow Castiel's direct order, he would be rebelling against Heaven, which would maybe not get him banned. But it would threaten his sedentary situation, where he was being left alone, free to do almost anything he wanted to.

"Fine!" he snapped. "I'll let him go. You happy now?"

"Satisfied."

"But..." Gabriel held up a hand. "I want to do it my way. You have to give me that."

"I don't have to give you anything. You mess with my charge, which means you mess with me. You stop doing what you're doing, and you stop it right now."

"But if I just stop it, they will become suspicious."

Castiel frowned.

"Think about it: Those two boys are used to chasing the supernatural. They are experiencing something supernatural now. They will never accept that it stopped just like that."

That did actually make sense.

"I kill Dean today, tomorrow I let Sam catch me, I let him 'talk me' into leaving them alone, and we're all happy. How's that sound?"

Castiel didn't like the perspective, but he agreed.

**5 May 2008 – Michael**

"Michael!" Castiel felt like dissolving into a puddle of gratitude. His older brother has finally come to see him.

"Castiel, I apologize for not seeing you earlier."

"That's alright, we still have ten days left. Enough time to..." Did he dare speak it out?

"I am afraid, brother," Michael said gravely, "but I don't bear good news for you."

"You... are not letting me help him out." Castiel had hoped so strongly that Heaven would come to Dean's rescue, that he had actually started to believe it. To find now that it didn't...

Michael was quiet for a moment. "I am sorry, brother, but I can't let you, much as I wish I could. But we have to focus on the bigger picture."

Castiel nodded, defeated. The bigger picture, of course. What else.

Michael was right, though. Castiel had simply gotten too attached to his charge over the last thirty years. That was his fault alone, and he couldn't lay blame on anyone else.

"There is not much point in you still watching over him," Michael continued softly, "but you are welcome to keep doing it until his time has come. You may save him from all evil and harm that may still come, except this last one."

Castiel nodded again. He couldn't speak. Because he was upset. Because he was angry. Because he was distraught.

"I am sorry, but that is all I can offer you, little brother."


	8. Chapter 8

**15 May 2008 – † Hellhounds**

It had been a wild chase. They were all so desperate by now, it was hard to keep up with them and their jumping thoughts. How the humans did it, following each other's thoughts, Castiel didn't comprehend. He only knew that he himself was lagging behind most of the times.

Until the very end when Castiel suddenly was ahead of everyone else. He saw the Hellhounds already sniffing around the house when Dean trustingly entered it, full of hope to find the solution to his problem in there.

Later that evening he looked at the Hellhound closing in on Dean with no less trepidation than Dean himself.

He saw Lilith cast Ruby back into Hell and take her place within the unfortunate girl who had housed her, before Dean realized the change.

He was all over and around Dean when the Hellhound ripped into him, taking away the worst of the pain. It was the last thing he could do for him.

How had he come to matter so much?

**15 September 2008 – Metatron**

Losing his charge still smarted. He kept telling himself that it had been Heaven's orders, and in that God's will. Therefore it had to be right.

Right?

Then why did it feel wrong?

Castiel tried, really tried, to stop feeling that way. He prayed to his Father to be relieved of this burden. He prayed for clarity of mind. He prayed for lifted spirits. He didn't want to be disturbed and confused and worried.

But how could he not worry? It were exactly forty years for Dean today. Castiel had no idea how long it took the average soul to break and become a demon, but he knew that eventually it happened to all of them. Nobody could survive Hell. That was the very point of Hell, after all. It broke them all, sooner or later.

And Dean, he would break sooner.

Because Dean was hard like diamonds, except for this one soft spot, and it was not hard to figure out what that was: He had made this entire hare-brained deal for his one soft spot. As soon as Hell's bitches figured out a way to play on that, he would break into a thousand pieces.

Dean Winchester.

A name that was much more than just a name to Castiel. It was a life. It was a soul. Opportunities not come true, chances not taken. Failure.

How could he have failed Dean like that?

It had been Heaven's orders to let him go.

But what if Heaven's orders... Castiel quickly clamped down on that thought. He couldn't start doubting Heaven's rightness.

"Castiel, I have orders for you."

Castiel jumped, caught completely by surprise, and his surprise only grew when he recognized the brother standing in front of him.

"Metatron..." He had spoken to God's first born only once, right before the war. The frontiers had been made clear. Lucifer and his followers on one side, the loyal angels on the other. Metatron had looked at him then. "This is the side you choose?" he had asked, and Castiel had been utterly confused at the question. What other side would he choose? He was God's loyal son.

"I am surprised, to tell the truth, that you're still here." Metatron spoke, effortlessly picking up a conversation that might have unfolded millennia ago, if Lucifer hadn't charged forward right then.

Castiel frowned at Metatron. He was not sure what to reply, because he still wasn't sure what Metatron meant by that.

"It seems you don't remember last time we spoke. Then again, I think you do. It was the only time I ever even took notice of you."

Castiel nodded. At least he'd now figured out what to say. "Why did you ask me that? Did you not want me on our Father's side?"

Metatron shrugged. "I just didn't expect you to be there. You always had that rebellious streak about you. Still have. I can tell, I can see it in you. And of course Michael has told me all about your efforts to save that charge of yours from Hell."

Dean Winchester, Castiel thought affectionately.

"Dean Winchester," Metatron read from his mind. "You still want to save him?"

Castiel exploded into an extra bright flash of light with sudden hope, but his realism quickly doused that feeling; and the light. "Don't ask if you won't allow me to act on my answer."

"You want to," Metatron stated.

Castiel felt resentment creeping into him, and after a moment of hesitation decided not to hide it. Metatron might be the oldest and most powerful angel. But bottom line, he was just another of his brothers. Let him see how he felt being daunted.

"I have actually come to give you permission," Metatron said.

Castiel did a double-take.

"In fact, it's not so much permission as an order."

Castiel just stared at Metatron numbly. He didn't dare believe it.

"Your new orders: Pull Dean Winchester's soul from Hell and put it back into his body. But don't let him remember you."

Castiel had his doubts about that. Dean would not just accept having been resurrected, it simply wasn't in his nature. He would want to find out the who and how and why.

"We think it would be counterproductive," Metatron explained in answer to the unspoken interjection. "We think it's best to approach him on our own terms in our own time."

Castiel knew it was because he didn't know all the facts and reasons himself, but it felt like betrayal to leave Dean in the dark.

Again Metatron answered to his thoughts: "All in due time, Castiel, all in due time. And prepare yourself: Your charge is not the one he used to be. It appears he has taken to Hell's favourite pastime."

Castiel frowned confused.

"Apparently he has gone from tortured to torturer."

Oh.

So they had found a way to exploit Dean's only weakness. It had been to be expected, but it still ... it smarted.

"Good luck with finding him, brother."

Castiel knew he probably shouldn't try his luck, but he had to ask. "Why? I mean, why now? Why not before? Why now that they have made him torture?" Castiel looked at Metatron accusingly. "Why now that they have damaged him beyond repair?"

"The bigger picture, of course."

Of course. It was always the bigger picture.

"And because your charge had to play his role, and yes, that included him going to hell and becoming a torturer of souls."

Castiel felt something upon those words, but he couldn't sort out what it was.

"Heaven has a new role for him now," Metatron went on, unperturbed, "and he will fulfil it." But then he seemed to take pity on Castiel. "And always remember: Nothing is ever beyond repair for our Father's able hands."


	9. Chapter 9

**16 September 2008 – Blood and Hell Dust**

So many.

Castiel had never realized how many demons and lost souls there were. Somehow he had always thought of Hell as a sparsely inhabited place. The angels who had fallen and a handful of demons they'd created. But there were so many demons that Castiel actually lost count. And there were even more lost souls, yet to become demons.

It was devastation as far as the eye could see. He had never realized what perdition truly was, but he could see it now: blood, screams, tears. Pain.

And in the middle of it all, drawing blood, eliciting screams, forcing tears, inflicting pain, stood Dean Winchester, his precious charge, not so precious anymore.

He stood over a soul tied to a rack, held a big knife with both hands, rammed it into a poor soul's gut, twisted it, and pulled it back out with a smacking sound.

He breathed in. Calmly. Savouring. There was no remorse in his eyes, only dull pleasure as the soul screamed and pleaded.

He stabbed again, into the soul's neck this time, reducing the screams to a wet bubbling.

Castiel quickly reached out, his hand tightening around Dean's arm, and yanked him out, probably a little faster than was advisable. The brittle soul might break.

But Dean, thankfully, didn't fall apart, he screamed. There was surprise in his voice, but also pain and despair and hope and more pain and relief and anger and yet more pain.

Castiel kept a strong hold on him as he repaired his body, reversed the effects of four breathless, pulse-less months, undid the gashes ripped by Hellhound claws and fangs. And, while he was at it, and because it would have been more trouble to distinguish than just do it all, Castiel wiped away all the other scars and ailments as well.

Then for the far more difficult task of putting Dean's soul back in order.

Castiel cleaned it from the grime that stuck to him almost everywhere. Blood and Hell Dust which would yet turn him into a demon if given half a chance.

**18 September 2008 – Dean Winchester is saved**

At long last Dean Winchester was all Hell Dust free. He was a pure soul again – not counting the flecks of guilt Dean had brought on himself.

It was time to reunite body and soul, but Castiel hesitated. He had to wipe Dean's memory of the last days, so this was his only chance to actually speak with Dean. Not that Dean would remember, but he himself would. And yes, he knew that was selfish.

Only, what could he say?

"I am sorry." Well, yes. That was one possibility.

Dean's eyes, dull and hollow lifted to look at Castiel. He had screamed in the beginning, had cursed and called Castiel names, but the more Hell Dust Castiel had removed, the quieter he had become, until he had fallen completely silent half a day ago.

"What for?" he asked in a voice as dull as his eyes.

For so many things, Castiel thought, but had no idea how to put it into words.

"As I understand it, you... rescued... me." He tested the word, almost as if it were poisonous if touched in the wrong way.

"Too late."

Dean shrugged.

Left without ideas on how to continue this conversation, Castiel tipped his fingers to Dean's forehead, wiped the last days from his memory and put him back into his body, leaving a hand-shaped burn on the shoulder where he touched the human flesh in the process.

He remained a moment longer, hovering right over Dean in the darkness. He heard him gasp for air.

Dean Winchester was alive again.

As Dean fumbled for his lighter, Castiel quickly rose from the grave, so Dean wouldn't see him. Erasing his memory wouldn't do much good, if... For a moment Castiel was tempted to let Dean see him, but then his sense of duty won out.

He knew what his brother in Heaven wanted to hear, so he said it, loud and clear: "Dean Winchester is saved."


End file.
